


Assorted Fannibal Birthday Ficlets

by AVegetarianCannibal



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Birthday, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 09:13:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11734068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVegetarianCannibal/pseuds/AVegetarianCannibal
Summary: This is where I'll be putting the birthday ficlets I write for Fannibals over on myTumblr account. Usually when a Fannibal friend has a birthday, and if I have time, I ask them if they'd like to send me a prompt or request for a birthday ficlet. Some of them are birthday themed, others aren't.





	1. Grybai

For @Carrioncrowned, who asked for Will getting overwhelmed with cooking something.

 

Hannibal knew Will had sent him out on errands in order to have the house to himself for a time, but for what purpose? Did he simply need the solitude? They had been not more than twenty feet apart from each other since Will tipped him into the ocean and subsequently plucked him from it. Perhaps he needed time to think. Think on what, though? Hannibal tried not to fret.

He wandered through the woods and around the outskirts of town for hours before returning to their little home tucked far away from the paved road.

The scent of ginger reached him first, even before he’d walked up the pathway to the door. Then cardamom, and cinnamon. Butter…rather a lot of butter, to be precise. Wheat flour just shy of burning.

“Will?” he called out as he stepped inside.

“Don’t come in!” Will called back from the kitchen. “Oh God please don’t come in!”

The distress in Will’s voice was clear. Did someone have him? Had he been captured by one of Crawford’s men and was now warning Hannibal to save himself?

Hannibal took a slow, scenting breath, but could detect no other person nearby. He quelled his instinct to run to Will.

“Are you all right?”

“No!” Will all but cried. “I’m—I’m so ashamed!”

Hannibal took a few steps, stopping himself just outside the kitchen. The smell of nearly-burnt flour was chokingly thick.

“Please, can I come in?”

He heard Will sigh and took that as permission.

The scene in the kitchen was…chaotic. Flour dusted every flat surface he could see. Bottles of spices lay like fallen chess pieces around the counter top.

“You made sugar cookies,” Hannibal said, noticing the trays of singed, flattened sweets.

“They’re not _supposed_ to be sugar cookies,” Will said, brushing flour out of his eyebrows with the back of his hand. “They’re supposed to be [grybai cookies](http://theculinarycellar.com/the-mushroom-cookie-master/) for Easter!”

“Grybai?” Hannibal echoed. He knew them well from his childhood. “But they don’t look like mushrooms.”

“I know!” Will wailed. “They look like deflated breast implants! I don’t know what I did wrong.”

Hannibal scanned the counter until he saw the stained and crumpled paper that held the recipe for the mushroom-shaped confections so popular in Lithuania.

“Did you perhaps add too much butter?” Hannibal asked.

“I used two cups like the recipe says,” Will said.

Hannibal bit his cheek to keep from laughing. “This recipe says two _tablespoons_ , not two cups.”

Will threw his hands in the air. “OH GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!”

Hannibal risked laying a hand in the small of Will’s back, relieved when Will reacted by moving in for an embrace.

“You were making these for me?”

“I just wanted something special for you,” Will said.

“Then they’re perfect,” Hannibal said. “Just as they are.”


	2. Birthday Message

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to @allionne , who asked for grumpy Hannibal celebrating his 60th

Will put away the last of the dishes and went to join Hannibal in the living room. He sat on the arm of the chair, careful not to jostle Hannibal’s drawing hand.

“Would you like anything special for your birthday?”

Hannibal looked up from his sketchbook, pencil poised over the rough cotton paper. He blinked at Will. "Do I have a birthday coming up?“

"In two days,” Will said. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know your own birthdate.”

Hannibal sniffed and went back to his drawing of the fountain in their garden.

“Well?” Will prodded. “Do you want anything?”

“All I’ve ever wanted was you,” Hannibal said. “I want nothing else in this life.”

That gave Will an idea.

* * *

Will stripped out of his clothes and arranged himself on the dining room table. With a piping bag filled with pastry cream, he began the meticulous task of writing legibly on his own torso.

He finished the last letter just as he heard Hannibal returning from his trip into town, and hurriedly covered his handiwork with the largest sterling dome he found in the hoard of serving ware.

“Happy birthday!” he shouted as Hannibal appeared in the doorway. “I got you me for your birthday, just like you wanted.”

Hannibal sighed, exasperated rather than mad, and went to Will’s side. “I suppose if I _must_ mark the relentless passage of time and constant reminder of my aging, this is the most pleasant possible way.”

Will whipped off the dome to reveal the message he’d written. “Have at me, then! I used fresh cream and that special vanilla you like.”

Hannibal’s face fell, and not subtly, either. “ _What_ does that say?”

“Happy 60th birthday,” Will said. “Sorry, I had a hard time writing upside down and backwards.”

“No, Will,” Hannibal said, “I mean…  _I’m only 59!_ ”


	3. Birthday Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @existingcharactersdiehorribly

“I think Dr. Lecter just asked me out on a date,” Will said.

Beverly quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you think you should be on a first-name basis then? I mean, unless you have a doctor kink. I’m not judging.”

Only the fact that they were sitting in a crowded coffee shop prevented Will from digging a hole in the floor and burying himself.

“Dr. Lec— _Hannibal_ said he wanted to bring me a special dinner,” he said. “When I asked if I had to get dressed up, he said he’d love to see me in my birthday suit.”

Beverly punched his shoulder (at least it was the good one) and gave a triumphant laugh. “I knew that guy was into you! I _knew_ it!”

Will blinked. “Really?”

“Oh my God, he’s always looking at you with cartoon hearts in his eyes!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Will sipped his coffee and tried to picture himself being buck naked when he opened the door for Hannibal. Could he be so bold? _Dare_ he be so bold??

“I’m gonna do it,” Will said.

**********

“Don’t do it,” Beverly texted him.

Will had already put the dogs upstairs and gotten naked except for his socks (his floor was cold) when he got the message from Bev.

“I can’t tell you why, but don’t do it,” she texted again before he got a chance to reply.

He decided to ignore her. He’d had enough of playing things safe. Didn’t he deserve to have some fun? Didn’t he deserve to be naked with someone who was attractive and knew his flaws and still apparently liked him? Damned right he did!

Several things then happened almost simultaneously.

He heard Hannibal knocking at his front door and threw it open just as a chorus of cheerful voices shouted “HAPPY” before adding a strangled “BIRTHDAY” upon spying his nude body. He saw Jack Crawford’s look of grim horror, Bryan Zeller’s cackling mug, Jimmy Price’s eyebrows shooting up towards the heavens, and Hannibal’s—Dr. _Lecter’s_ jaw falling slack. From behind them all, Beverly’s voice piped up.

“I _told_ you not to do it!!”

**********

Will, now clad in his bathrobe and multiple layers of shame, sat on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands. Everyone but Dr. Lecter had left, having called Ubers to carry them away since he’d been their designated driver.

“Will, look at me.”

“I’m never looking at anyone ever again. I can’t believe I misjudged things so horribly!”

“Please don’t be embarrassed,” Dr. Lecter said. “Upon reflection, I should have called it the suit I sent you for your birthday, and not your birthday suit.”

Will finally looked up. “You sent me a suit for my birthday?”

Dr. Lecter frowned. “My tailor was supposed to deliver it this afternoon.” He got out his phone and checked his messages. “My apologies, Will, It was apparently delivered to your office at Quantico.”

Will found himself not even caring about the mistake anymore. “You had a suit _tailor_ - _made_ for me?”

“For your birthday.”

“Is that something you do for all your friends?”

“I don’t have other friends,” Dr. Lecter said, “but it’s not something I would do for them if I did.”

“So….I _didn’t_ misjudge things?”

“You misjudged my meaning about the birthday suit—which was entirely my fault—but not my desire to see you.”

“To see me naked?”

“Naked…clothed…in any possible state, Will.”

“Well, then,” Will said, tugging off his bathrobe. “Happy birthday to _me_.”


	4. Just a Trim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @jadegreenworks , who requested a hair cut/shave for Will.

Will picked up the clippers and studied his reflection in the mirror. He looked like a bear. Not…not even euphemistically. He _zoologically_ looked like a bear. After the stitches in his cheek had come out, he’d let his beard grow out and it kind of got away from him. The bottom edge of it hung nearly to the bottom of his neck and the sides stuck out far enough to obscure his ears from view. His mustache was getting to be a problem while eating and drinking, not to mention while in the bedroom with Hannibal.

Then there was the matter of his hair.

Even in prison it hadn’t been this long. It now had a habit of getting tangled when he slept, and expanding to ridiculous proportions in the Cuban humidity. He couldn’t take it anymore. When he walked through the streets with Hannibal, he felt like a hobo in comparison. A hobo _bear_. Zoologically speaking.

So all of it had to go. The beard, the hair, all of it. He turned on the clippers, ready to shave everything down to the skin.

Hannibal happened by the open bathroom door and gasped.

“What are you planning to do with those?”

“I’m becoming human again.”

“You’re not going to get rid of everything, are you?”

Will shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I? I feel like I belong in a zoo.”

Hannibal came forward to gently (but firmly) pluck the clippers from his hand and yank the power cord out of the wall.

“Let me just give you a trim,” he said. “I promise to have you looking human again.”

“You can cut hair?” Will asked, brows rising into the canopy of his bangs.

“I’m a surgeon,” Hannibal sniffed. “I think I can manage a bit of hair.”

Will rolled his eyes but sat down to let Hannibal have a try at it. If worse came to worst, he could always shave himself later.

First, Hannibal dampened his hair and pried apart the knots where it had tangled. Will bit his tongue against the occasional sharp pain, but over all it felt nice to have Hannibal’s hands in his hair. _Really_ nice. He was getting a little turned on from i.

“Mm,” he said.

“Mm-hmm,” Hannibal said back.

He let his eyes close as little arcs of curls started to cascade down in his field of vision. He felt them landing on his bare chest and shoulders, and wiggled slightly at the immediate itching sensation.

“I’ll shower you after,” Hannibal said.

“Mm?”

“Mm-hmm,” Hannibal said again.

Next came the beard, which Hannibal attacked with the same scissors, first carving out a rough shape amid the overgrowth.

“I feel like topiary,” Will said.

“Is that better or worse than a zoo animal?” Hannibal asked.

“Slightly better,” Will said. “So far.”

Hannibal placed one finger horizontally against his lips, protecting them from the sharp edge of the scissors as he snipped away the mossy length of his mustache.

At the end, he went to the clippers, but Will heard him snap the guide into place so as to not buzz him down to the skin. Will allowed his head to be turned this way and that so Hannibal could find the best angles.

“Am I looking okay?”

“No,” Hannibal sighed. “I’m afraid I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

Will opened his eyes so he could get a look at himself in the mirror. He was shocked at the reflection looking back at him. His hair was still long enough to curl, but blessedly out of his eyes and off his neck, and there remained enough beard to cover his scar and the naturally patchy areas that showed when he wore stubble only. He looked ten years younger, to boot.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “I’ve probably never looked better in my life!” 

“That’s just it,” Hannibal said. “Now everyone will fall in love with you on sight. I’ll be hacking your suitors away with a machete, left and right, back and front.”

Will laughed and gave him a kiss with his newly exposed lips.

“There’s only one suitor I care about,” he said, “and he’s about to get in the shower with me.”


	5. Footsie for a Foodie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @wrathofthestag

They were in some up-and-coming new place in Tampico that promised to blend regional seafood and flavors with the latest in “gastro science.” Hannibal had read about it on one of the gourmet travel blogs he followed, and it seemed like something he and Will could both enjoy.

The menus were printed on herbed rice paper that the waitperson—according to what Hannibal had read—was supposed to set on fire and place under a glass dome to add a smoky flavor to whatever starter course they ordered.

“They have a chorizo made of shrimp,” Hannibal said, “that is prepared sous-vide and served with a foam made of shrimps’ eyes and brains.”

“I promise I’m not as uncouth as I’m about to sound,” Will said, “but I could really just go for some beer-battered shrimp and fries.”

Hannibal pointedly ignored that.

“We’ll start with oysters,” he told the waiter in Spanish. “Smoked table-side, please.”

Will supposed he shouldn’t mention that just the _thought_ of oysters made his gut roil. One too many times getting sick eating cheap ones. The shrimp foam sounded ghastly, as well.

He slid the shoe off his right foot and shifted in his seat until he could touch Hannibal’s ankle with his toes.

Hannibal blinked and looked up, instantly flushed.

Will waggled his eyebrows at him.

Emboldened, he moved up Hannibal’s calf, rubbing it through his trousers. Another shift in his seat and he was able to stretch his leg far enough to toe the inside of Hannibal’s thigh.

“What are you doing?” Hannibal asked.

“Giving you a reason to leave this restaurant,” Will said. “If you think I’m good with my feet, you should see what I can do with my hands.”

Hannibal gave him a glassy-eyed smile. “Is this because you don’t want to eat shrimp chorizo?”

“Maybe I’m just hungry for something else.” he said, nearly cracking up at his own dumb innuendo. “Whaddya say?”

“You don’t want to stay for the oysters?” Hannibal asked. “Many people believe they’re an aphrodisiac.”

“Believe me,” Will said, digging into Hannibal’s thigh and eliciting a sharp gasp. “I don’t need an aphrodisiac.”

Hannibal was throwing down handfuls of money on the table just as the waiter returned, and tossing an apology over his shoulder as he and Will fled the restaurant. He hardly missed seeing the menu set on fire at all.


	6. The Birthday Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @ishipthemsogoddamnhard

**Birthday Minus 2 Weeks**

Will stretched his arms as high above his head as he could, which, as it turned out, wasn’t terribly high. Pushing even as little as he did, he realized his range of motion had gone to hell. From his old bullet wounds to the newer injuries inflicted upon him by Francis and even the Atlantic, his chest and shoulders looked like a mangled parody of human anatomy.

“I don’t think I’ll be much good at fly fishing anymore,” Will said.

“It will come back to you,” Hannibal said, giving him a soft smile. “You’re young still. You’ll heal.”

“Young? I’ll be—” Will realized he had a birthday in a few weeks.  "I’ll be 42. Jesus Christ. _That_ snuck up on me.“

"I’ll help you,” Hannibal said.

Will let him tug on his arms and shoulders, pushing and pulling them further past comfort than he could have done on his own. The touching was professional and clinical, until it wasn’t, and Will was aware that Hannibal’s hands had strayed to his hips.

“Th-thank you for the help,” Will said, backing away. “Maybe we could try again tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Hannibal agreed with a faltering smile.

 

**Birthday Minus 10 Days**

Will’s physical therapy sessions with Hannibal became strictly clinical after that initial experience. There was no more flirting, no more suggestive touching no matter how small. Hannibal helped him stretch, and then disappeared from their cabin for hours at a time.

 

**Birthday Minus 3 Days**

“Where do you go every day?” Will asked after their session.

“Here and there,” Hannibal said with a shrug. “Just exploring this piece of land. If anyone comes for us, it would be wise to know our escape routes.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

Hannibal hesitated at the door on his way out. “Would you rather I stayed?”

Will wanted to tell him that yes, of _course_ he wanted him to stay.

“No, it’s okay,” he said instead. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

 

**Birthday, the Day Of**

“Why are things so weird lately?” Will asked, unable to take the tension any longer. “Things were so easy at first. I didn’t think they would be, but they were! Then once we weren’t almost dying anymore…”

Hannibal blinked at him. “Aren’t things the way they are by your own design?”

Now Will was _really_ confused. “What? No! I mean… I don’t know, because I don’t know what’s going on.”

“You recoiled when I touched you,” Hannibal said. “The first night I helped you with your exercises, you recoiled. I took that to mean you didn’t want what I wanted.”

Will’s face burned at the memory. “I just…it took me by surprise.”

Hannibal scoffed. “You had to know I wanted you.”

“No, I mean,” Will said, “it too me by surprise how much _I_ wanted _you_.”

“Oh,” Hannibal said.

“Yeah, _oh_ ,” Will said. “Then you started disappearing every day, and I didn’t know what to think. You didn’t give me a chance to–to regroup.”

Hannibal’s expression grew warm and soft, and very, very fond. “Would you like to see why I’ve been disappearing?”

At Will’s nodding, Hannibal reached into his back pocket for a small bundle made of his handkerchief. He opened it to reveal assorted small feathers, bits of sanded glass and metal that had been beaten and twisted into organic-looking shapes.

“I don’t understand,” Will said.

“They’re for your birthday,” Hannibal said. “I’ve been collecting and fashioning found objects you might use when you go fly fishing again.”

Will took the little bundle, wrapped it up again, and set it aside before pressing the length of his body against Hannibal’s, and tilting up his head to press a kiss to his lips.

When they separated, Hannibal asked, “Have you regrouped?”

“I think so,” Will said.

“Then happy birthday to you,” Hannibal said.

“Happy birthday to me indeed,” Will agreed, and kissed him again.


	7. Friendly Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @granpappy-winchester

Will Graham showed up on his doorstep just as he was about to leave for lunch. Hannibal thought about teasing him for it, as he was wont to do, but the look of utter desperation on Will’s face made him decide against it.

“I"m so sorry for showing up unannounced,” Will said, “but I can’t take this anymore.”

Hannibal motioned for him to take a seat. “Why don’t you tell me what’s troubling you?”

Will sat, only to pop right back up again to start pacing. He scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. He was rumpled in a way that Hannibal knew he should have found off-putting, but in fact he had the opposite reaction. He found it charming.

“I’m just going to come out with it,” Will said. “I… I’ve been having erotic dreams about someone I _definitely_ shouldn’t be dreaming about.”

“Dreams are harmless enough,” Hannibal said, “unless they interfere with our waking lives.”

“I can’t hardly look at this person anymore,” Will said.

Hannibal noted that Will was not looking at him, and had _not_ looked at him since he walked through the door. He also noted the lack of a gender-specific pronoun.

Hannibal tried not to get ahead of himself. “Is it someone you work with, perhaps?”

“Yes,” Will said, still not looking at him.

“Is it someone you consider a friend?” Hannibal asked. “You needn’t tell me any more than you wish to divulge, but it may help me get to the root of your dreaming.”

“Can I just tell you what the dreams are about?” Will asked, coming to a stop at the window.

“Please do.”

“Sometimes we’re, um, fishing, and all we have on are wading boots,” Will said. “Sometimes we… _oh God_ …sometimes we do it on the riverbank while a trout flops around beside us, dying.”

“The act of copulation is a powerful metaphor for life and death,” Hannibal said, making it up out of thin air. “Perhaps you’ve faced life or death experiences with this… _person_. And it’s made you attracted to… _them_.”

Will made a small retching sound. Hannibal tried not to feel offended. After all, he wasn’t even certain Will was referring to him.

“Sometimes this person says pretentious things about music,” Will said, “and it just gives me a raging boner.”

Hannibal preened slightly.

“Not in real life,” Will hurried to add. “Just in the dreams.”

Hannibal stopped preening.

“Is it possible the dreams are meaningless?” Will asked, desperation in his voice. “I’m just so… _revolted_ …I can hardly stand it.”

Hannibal was starting to wish he’d never opened the door.

“I mean _Brian Zeller_ of all people,” Will said, practically wailing now. “That guy annoys the shit out of me every day!”

“Brian Zeller,” Hannibal repeated.

“Oh shit,” Will said under his breath. “I didn’t actually mean to reveal who it was. I’m just so damned pissed off at myself. He’s such a cocky little twerp!”

“Hm,” was all Hannibal could think to say.

“At least if it were _you_ in my dreams I’d understand,” Will said.

Hannibal suddenly thought of something else to say. “Oh?”

Only now did Will turn around to look at him, bashful as he was. “I mean, well, yeah. At least I get along with _you_. At least I’d understand _why_ my brain would take that to mean I had romantic feelings.”

Hannibal had to cross his legs to keep from leaping out of his chair. He reminded himself Will hadn’t actually admitted to sexually desiring him. He was speaking only in theoretics.

“I hazard to say your dreams don’t indicate you’re attracted to Mr. Zeller,” Hannibal said. “Your daily annoyance at him could be misinterpreted by your sleeping brain as other strong emotions.”

Will sighed and seemed to relax. He let out a soft, throaty laugh.

“I’m relieved to hear that. You don’t even know!”

Hannibal smiled and showed him to the door. “I’m glad I could help you,” he said. “Please keep me in mind if you dream again.”

Will quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That is, keep me in mind to _tell_ me about your dreams,” Hannibal said quickly.

Will returned his smile, bright as anything he’d ever seen. “Thanks, Dr. Lecter. You’re a good friend.”

As Hannibal watched Will disappear down the stairs, Hannibal thought perhaps when Franklyn next came for his appointment, he would ask him about dealing with sexual feelings for one’s friend. Just to get another perspective and not because he himself was inexperienced with romance, of course.


	8. Hannibal's Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @slashyrogue, who requested Hannigram + kitten

Will was skulking around a convenience store while trying to look like he _wasn’t_ skulking around when his phone rang.

His heart lept into his throat. A cold sweat broke out between his shoulder blades. He ducked behind a display of corn chips and forced his voice to maintain some semblance of calm.

“Hello?”

“Will, it’s an emergency,” Hannibal said on the other end.

_This is it. This is the moment we feared, and it came all too soon._

“Get out of there,” Will said as quietly as he could. “If you can’t get out, kill everyone in your path. I’m on my way back now.”

“No!” Hannibal snapped at him. “I need you to bring back some goat’s milk!”

Will blinked. Then he blinked some more. They had agreed the burner phones would only be used in an emergency, and that meant Crawford or maybe Alana’s hitmen had found their hideout.

Perhaps Hannibal wanted to make a curry out of a particularly slow hitman?

“Is…is the goat’s milk for a recipe?” Will asked.

“It’s for a kitten,” Hannibal said. “It’s for our new kitten!”

******

Will finished the supply run as quickly as he could, stopping off at an actual grocery store for the milk and some kitten chow, and then hightailed it back to their cabin. As disfigured and unrecognizably bandaged as Will’s face currently was, they’d agreed he should be the one to go into town.

Now, as he approached the cabin, he was wishing he’d never left. They should have just made do with whatever supplies they still had left from Chiyoh’s drop.

“Hannibal?” he called out as he all but threw open the door.

A quick glance around the place could find no sign of murder or even a struggle.

Hannibal emerged from the bedroom, holding a fluffy while creature in his hands.

“Meet our new kitten,” he said, beaming.

Will set down his bags and went in for a closer look. Though the little animal was all white and blinked up at him with pink eyes, Will immediately recognized it for what it was.

“Hannibal, that’s a _skunk_ ,” Will said. “An albino skunk, to be precise.”

Hannibal frowned and cradled the little skunk to his chest, offended. “You just don’t like cats,” he said, accusingly. “You… you _dog person_.”

“I like cats,” Will sighed. “I even like skunks! But the wild ones belong in the wild.”

Hannibal looked deeply hurt…and high as hell, judging by his pupils and iffy zoological judgment.

“How much pain medication did you take?” Will asked.

“Just my usual dose,” Hannibal said. “Then I took your dose, too, since you said you didn’t need it.”

Well, that explained it.

Will couldn’t help but laugh as much as his mangled cheek would allow.

“You’re going to be _so_ upset when the drugs wear off and you realize you’ve been snuggling a skunk.”

“ _Kitten_ ,” Hannibal practically hissed at him.

“Fine, kitten,” Will indulged, even as he used his emergency-only phone to look up the nearest wildlife rescue…

 


	9. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @damnslippyplanet

Hannibal woke when he heard the motel room door opening on creaky hinges. A shift in the air that told him Will was leaving, but he didn’t find his voice in time to call out in protest.

“It’s not safe,” he whispered at the door as it closed, his throat dry and aching, and still tasting like the sea.

A wave of pain, as dark and turbulent as any the Atlantic could offer, swept him back down into unconsciousness.

*******

He woke when he heard the door opening again.

“Will?” he croaked, not even bothered to hear the note of desperation in his own voice.

“It’s me,” came the reassuring answer.

“It’s not safe to leave the room,” Hannibal said. “Wait until Chiyoh comes back again.”

“I was only gone for a few minutes,” Will said. “I was careful.”

The bed dipped as Will sat beside him. In the darkness, he could make out Will’s silhouette against the grim and pallid light seaping through the cheap curtains, but he wanted to see his face. Needed to see his face.

“Why haven’t you turned any lights on?”

Will sighed. “I’m…pretty hideous.”

“Impossible,” Hannibal scoffed.

He wanted to sit up but the dual pressures of the freshly stitched wound in his gut and Will’s steady hand on his shoulder convinced him otherwise.

“Your stitches will pull,” Will tutted him. “Just go back to sleep for now. I’ll have a surprise for you when you wake up again.”

*******

The next time he woke, it was to the distinctive odor of a freshly struck match.

Will sat down beside him again, cupping a small candle in his hands. In the dimness offered by that flickering sphere of light, Hannibal could make out the gauze on Will’s face and the bruising all along his cheekbone.

“You’re _not_ hideous,” Hannibal said, recalling their earlier conversation.

“Well, you know what they say about candlelight,” Will said. “It’s flattering to everybody.”

Will held out his hand so that Hannibal could see he’d been holding more than a candle.

“Is that…a Twinkie?” Hannibal asked.

“It’s your birthday cake,” Will said. “Hurry up and make a wish and blow out the candle. Twinkies might be flammable, for all I know.”

“It’s not my birthday,” Hannibal told him, even as he blew out the candle as he’d been instructed.

“It’s the birthday listed on your new, very fake passport,” Will said. “By the way, your new, very fake name is Albert.”

“I suppose I can live with that,” Hannibal said.

After a long silence, Will set the Twinkie down on the nightstand. (Hannibal was relieved he wasn’t expected to eat it, although he would have if it had come to that.) Without the scant light from the birthday candle, Hannibal couldn’t judge the expression on Will’s face.

“Do you suppose you can live with _me_?” Will finally asked, his voice suddenly shy. “If I promise next year’s cake isn’t a Twinkie?”

Hannibal fumbled in the dark until his hand latched onto Will’s. “In fact, it was the very wish I made.”


	10. Fight For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @hanni-bunny-lecter

“That’ll be $15.78,” said the cashier.

Will handed over a crisp twenty and pocketed the change.

He started to walk away from the register, but Hannibal caught his wrist and pulled him aback.

“I believe my husband was overcharged for the peaches,” Hannibal announced.

The cashier was bored and tired. “I’ll have to call my manager if you want a refund.”

“It’s fine,” Will said. “L-let’s just go home.”

“Nonsense,” Hannibal said, prickling like an offended rooster. “I said I would always fight for you, and I meant it.”

Will sighed.

*******

Will found Hannibal writing at his desk by the light of two candles.

“What’s got you in such an atmospheric mood tonight?”

Hannibal didn’t look up from his work. “Just recalled something from the past that I wanted to address.”

Will yawned into his hand. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Soon,” Hannibal promised, glancing up just long enough to flash him a smile.

Will got halfway down the hall to their bedroom when he stopped and headed back to Hannibal’s office.

“What, exactly, from the past are you ‘addressing’?” he asked.

“I’m sending Jack Crawford a very strongly worded letter,” Hannibal said. “Telling him it was very rude of him to touch your eyeglasses.”

“That was _years_ ago,” Will said. “I literally didn’t even know you yet!”

“I said I would always fight for you,” Hannibal reminded him.

Will sighed.

*******

Will returned from walking the dogs to find their neighbor lying unconscious on the mud room floor.

“Hannibal,” Will called out. “Why’s our neighbor passed out in our house?”

“We had a disagreement!” Hannibal called back from the kitchen. “It’s been settled!”

Will scooped up Boca and Florence and stomped off to confront his husband.

“Hannibal, you can’t just kill people for disagreeing with you!”

“He made very lewd comments about you in your lilac shorts,” Hannibal said, casually chopping onions and celery. “I told you I’d always fight for you, and I meant it.”

Will sighed. “Oh for crying out loud!”

“He also said our dogs were fat and ugly,” Hannibal said.

Will gasped, stung as if slapped. “I’ll go start some coals in the barbecue pit.”


	11. The Costumed Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @feyestwords, who wanted a spot of Hannigram and a dog in Halloween costume. I used my own dog as a model, which explains why Hannibal and Will have such crummy apartment carpeting and a box store sofa.

 

“I’m surprised at you,” Hannibal said with a sniff. “I thought you loved dogs.”

“Yes, I love dogs,” Will said. “That’s precisely why I don’t want to do anything humiliating to this one!”

The “one” in question was an elderly Jack Russell terrier Hannibal had found trying to mate with every four-legged creature in town. Will suspected he’d brought the little dog home because he knew Will would be reminded of Buster. Now Hannibal was proposing dressing him up for Halloween.

“He loves his little clothes,” Hannibal said. “He doesn’t think they’re humiliating.”

Hannibal held up his phone to show him a picture.

“Look at his fine woolen coat, Will. Look how dapper he is.”

Will remembered the day Hannibal took the little dog to his own personal tailor. He’d spent hundreds on a new wardrobe for him, with several coats matching his own.

“Coats and sweaters are fine as long as they’re practical,” Will said. “You want to dress him up like a pumpkin!”

“A Jack-O-Lantern,” Hannibal corrected him. “A Jack-Russell-O-Lantern, to be precise.”

Will sighed. “You and your puns, I swear to fuck.”

“Can I dress him up as my favorite actor, then?” Hannibal asked.

“Fine,” Will finally agreed.

That night, Will walked into the living room to find the little dog sprawled out on the sofa in a Jack-O-Lantern hoodie.

“What favorite actor of yours is he supposed to be?” Will asked.

“Drew Hancy,” Hannibal said in a decidedly dreamy tone.

“Huh,” Will said. “Never heard of him.”

 


	12. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For @iamnotswarley

Will was fairly certain Hannibal was cheating on him.

It had started about a week into October, with Hannibal excusing himself from the breakfast table to lock himself in his study. At first, Will thought nothing of it. They’d only really been together for a few months, so he expected there were little eccentricities he’d have to get used to.

But the solitary sessions in his study grew longer and longer, until the morning of October 15, when Hannibal didn’t even bother to kiss him before scampering away from the table.

He wasn’t proud of himself, but he tiptoed down the hall in socks and pressed his ear to the door to Hannibal’s study.

“Aren’t you lovely,” he heard Hannibal saying in barely more than a whisper. “You may be the finest one I’ve seen yet, like a golden king of the woods.”

Will balled up his hands into fists. Was Hannibal browsing a dating site?

“I could look at you all day,” Hannibal said. “If only Will weren’t the jealous type.”

Jealous type? JEALOUS? How _dare_ Hannibal call him jealous!

“I do believe you’re my favorite, Ash,” Hannibal said.

Will threw open the door. “What do you think you’re doing?” he fumed. Hannibal looked up from his tablet, eyes wide. “Is that Tinder? Are you looking at _Tinder_?”

Hannibal frowned at his tablet. “I suppose if it were dry enough, it could be tinder.”

Will flailed. “That doesn’t even make _sense_! Hannibal, who in the hell is Ash?”

Hannibal sighed. “I knew I would have to explain myself to you someday, Will.” He took a long, shaky breath. “You see, I… I am a leaf peeper.”

“That’s the most perverted sounding thing I have ever heard,” Will said. He got a mental image of Hannibal hiding behind leafy bushes to watch people doing God-only-knew what. “And you haven’t told me who Ash is!”

“Ash is a tree,” Hannibal said. “I’ve been watching this Virginia foliage cam, tracking the leaf changes in ash trees, beech, poplar…”

Hannibal held the tablet out to him, showing him a web cam focused on a tract of land not far from where he used to live in Wolf Trap. The tree-covered hill was a riot of color, rich umbers and flashy golds, punctuated by the persistent viridescence of evergreens. Red maples dotted the hill like bloodstains.

When Hannibal reached out to take the tablet back, Will swiveled away. “Do you mind? I’m peeping leaves here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The request was for a leaf-peeping Hannibal. My reaction was almost the same as Will’s until I looked it up.


End file.
